


A Beast's Heart

by whatsacleverusername



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: (and an Aussie but that's inconsequential), Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Companionable Snark, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kirk is tired, Light Angst, Lina is the only competent one tbh, M/M, Medical Examination, Medical Professionals, Mild Gore, Minor Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Scarebeast - Freeform, Tommy is a shit, Transformation, don't you just hate it when your hair falls out, it sucks man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 17:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21256892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsacleverusername/pseuds/whatsacleverusername
Summary: Scarebeast shenanigans.





	A Beast's Heart

**Author's Note:**

> For Scarecrow Week 2019 Day Seven "Halloween (Free Day)" :}

Edwin had heard of the Scarebeast before, just as he had most of Gotham's tales and secrets. Very few people put any stock in it, the majority being whispers amongst the superstitious mob dons and henchmen of various employments. And yet, at the slightest hint of dark brown hair and sickly green smoke, an alarm struck through the criminal underground, conjuring up gas masks and locks. It was assured they would be fine, so long as everyone stayed indoors. That didn't stop the dark figure from perching on the back of his couch like an overgrown vulture, clawed hand resting at its feet and hallucinogenic gas billowing out from its wicked beak. Eyes with black sclera and icy blue irises fixed on Edwin, the monster stays perfectly still, even as the much smaller inventor starts backing up towards the apartment's kitchen. If he could just reach a knife, or- Or _something_\- He soon finds his plan foiled when the black mass of the beast suddenly lurches forward on arms and legs, pushing him back towards a corner. Edwin's hot, shallow breath condensating against his mask, he presses his body against the wall, staring up at the horrible thing towering above him. A low hiss escapes its maw as it opens, revealing a serrated tongue and void of a throat, until a large plume of its infamous green fumes erupts in Edwin's face. He can't help but be thankful for the industrial grade gas masks his boyfriend insisted be kept in the apartment at all times. Yet as the gas clears again and a clawed hand swipes towards him, he feels just as faint as he narrowly ducks out of the way, running towards the kitchen and all but flinging open the silverware drawer. It comes barreling after him, its movements like something straight from a horror movie mixed with a leopard as it swipes at him again, instead colliding with the ceramic tiling above the oven. As it does, something catches Edwin's eye, a glint of blue on one of its fingers…

"_Jon_?" Edwin asks incredulously, lowering the knife.

The creature growls and lunges at him again, snapping its beak.

Moving out of the way, Edwin shouts, "Jonathan!"

It rises up, glaring down at Edwin and huffing more smoke at him, tilting its terrible head curiously. They stare across at each other for a moment, that familiar icy blue glinting in the beast's eyes, the man glancing down at the claw with the metal band, a favorite gift from the bibliophile. The creature's fingers are so thin the ring hangs from the bony digit. Being able to get a clearer look at the creature, he reaffirms his hunch, recognizing the long jeans- more like capris on the long, slender legs- by the large burned out hole just above the knee. It’s a foolish detail to notice, but… Taking a deep, stilling breath, Edwin reaches out to it with a hand, hastily pulling it back when it snarls at him. Before he can react further, it grabs him by the leg and lifts him up, swatting the knife out of his hand. He reflexively squeezes his eyes shut, covering his face with an arm as he's closely inspected and scrutinized. Because of this reflex, however, he's horribly disoriented when he's suddenly flipped right side up again and enveloped by what feels like a fur coat, the sensation of movement further confusing his senses. He tentatively opens an eye to find himself clutched to the beast's chest, the mass of hair around him much like the coat he had envisioned. It would almost be calming if the creature that somehow _must_ be Jonathan doesn't tear open the large window and leap out into the night, plummeting for a short while before it grabs hold of a fire escape and pulls them up the side of it. The only thing Edwin can do now is cling for dear life to the wiry arm around him and hope there's still _some_ amount of Jonathan under all the smoke and billowing hair.

By the time they stop flying through the city, Edwin has long since given up on keeping track of their whereabouts. The aching, wind bit chill in his skin commands most of his attention, hardly registering as the Scarebeast carries him through the broken window of a condemned fabric store and carefully sets him down on what almost looks like a nest of scraps and yarn. It croaks at him when he attempts to stand up, dropping its gaunt head in his lap. Intelligent eyes look up expectantly at him, feline pupils in blue human irises widening as a low rumble in its throat vibrates against Edwin's leg. His heart jumps into his throat when it takes his hand and presses it against its bald head, its ashen skin dry and almost scaly. Caught between fear and an odd sense of affection for the perplexing gesture, Edwin slowly runs his hand down its neck, back towards the collar of oddly soft hair- Or fur? Its hand letting go of his and disappearing into that same soft mass, the Scarebeast closes its eyes with a grumbling sigh, reminiscent of a tired man he knows.

Frowning slightly, Edwin quietly asks, "that _is_ you, Jonathan, right…?"

Opening an eye slightly, it chirps at him, nuzzling the side of its head against him. "Darlin'," it almost cooes in an eerie mimicry of Jonathan's voice, the inflection like a recording out of context, resting its hand on his legs.

"You can-" Edwin catches himself, fixing the shrill tone in his voice and asking, "what happened to you?"

It closes its eye again a bit too quickly, hunching its shoulders and effectively hiding part of its head in its mane. Of course it's- No, _he's_ just as stubborn a monster as he is a man.

"Jonathan," Edwin pleads, daring to lift the beast's head to look at him.

He opens his eyes again only to avert them, pulling his head away from Edwin. With all the reluctance of an embarrassed lover, he sits back on his haunches and parts the mane around his chest, Edwin unable to suppress the gasp leaping from his lips at the answer. Three holes in the flesh there ooze red at a slow, hardly discernible pace, trails and pools of it already dried against the thin body. As his chest rises and falls, Edwin can catch the bullets glimmering within the pits they left behind, making his stomach churn and causing him to gag slightly. Unable to even manage his name again, he reaches towards the injured body, quickly pulling his hand back as Jonathan hisses at him and rises up again. Edwin manages a mumbled apology after a moment, letting his monster cautiously rest his head in his lap once more. Absently fidgeting with the soft mane, Edwin tries to ignore the rising concerns in his mind, feeling his heart rate quicken with panic. He tries going over the breathing and other tricks Jonathan had taught him, but the connection to the problem only worsens his anxiety. He's surprised when he feels a tear rolling down his cheek, more following when he goes to wipe the first away, only for a plastic screen to block him. He has no reason to be crying, especially when he should be _doing something_, but Jonathan had been gone for so long, and for him to return like this, hurt who knows how long ago…

As if sensing the panic rising in his system, the beast raises his head again, this time circling around Edwin and pulling him further onto the odd nest, guiding him to lay against his stomach. The hallucinogenic gas no longer seeping from Jonathan’s beak, Edwin removes the gas mask to rub at his eyes. Ungodly gentle hands, surprisingly soft like the pads of paws, carefully try to pat his wet cheeks, taking extreme care to not accidentally cut him with a claw. He can't help but readily accept the embrace, grasping three of the creature's fingers and struggling to get himself back under control, letting him carefully brush his cheek with a knuckle, resisting the urge to bury his face in his mane. In hindsight, the gas alone really should have tipped the rest of Gotham off as to what or who the beast is. Of course, now is no time for hindsight, rather to focus on the future. Hoping against hope as he wipes away his tears, Edwin reaches into the pocket of his pajamas, thanking whatever god may have been listening when he finds his phone there. Taking it out, he hastily punches in a number, hoping his luck holds out. It picks up half a second after the first ring, before it even had time to finish.

A gruff, unhappy whisper answers, "this better be-"

"Thomas," Edwin all but shouts. "Thomas, it's Edwin."

"What did Crane do this time?" Thomas Elliot asks bluntly.

"I…" he hesitates. How is he supposed to explain this? "…He was shot."

"Furry again, right?" Thomas doesn't wait for his answer, swearing lightly and asking, "how's the blood flow?"

"The- The what?" Edwin asks lamely.

"How much blood is there?" Thomas rephrased.

"Oh…" Swallowing the lump in his throat, Edwin says, "most of it is dried- _A lot_ is dried, but there's some- The wounds are still bleeding a little, not too much. Almost like-"

"How many shots? Exit wounds?" Thomas drills.

Deciding details are best left for later, Edwin answers, "I counted three. The bullets are still in the wounds."

A long unhappy sigh hisses over the speaker. "Do you have any bandages nearby?" Thomas asks.

"There's…" Looking around, Edwin says, "there's a fair amount of fabric around."

"Cut it into strips, tie it together, and wrap it around-" A shot and clang in the background cuts off the last of his instruction.

"Thomas?" Edwin calls. "Are you- What's happening over there?"

"Wrap it around the wound," Thomas repeats, shouting now. "Don't let him leave his blanket fort or wherever you're holed up. He'll try to. I'll be back in town Saturday. Meet me at GMH. Whatever you do, do not let the old bastard-" He's cut off again by a yell and sickening crunch.

"What? Thomas-" Edwin is interrupted by the dial tone, sighing and dropping his phone in his lap.

He lays his head against the cool skin of the beast and presses a hand to his forehead, just now noticing the rhythmic rumbles of his breathing. How he hadn't noticed it before… And he thought Jonathan snored horribly as a _human_. Yet just like before, it's oddly soothing to feel the rumbling against him. Why, he could just close his eyes and…

When Edwin realizes he'd fallen asleep, he could tell right away it had been much longer a nap than it should have been. For one, Jonathan is nowhere to be seen. For two, Edwin is all but buried in towels and blankets that were not there before. It takes him a solid two and a half minutes to wriggle out of the cocoon and free himself, just in time for something light to hit the creaky floorboards somewhere in the darkened room. He jumps when the Scarebeast emerges from the shadows silently, whipping his head around to watch it prowl towards him. Whether or not he knows it's Jonathan, he's still frankly _terrifying_. It isn't until he curls up on the blankets with Edwin, dropping a bag of something in his lap, does he notice he's begun bleeding again, mostly by the overwhelming metallic smell than by sight.

Sitting upright, Edwin exclaims, "Jonathan, you're bleeding! Hold still, you're-"

Hissing at the shrill tone in his voice, Jonathan pulls the bag open, nudging what looks like a wrapped up deli sandwich, no doubt stolen, and looking at Edwin expectantly.

"No, Jon," he says, lowering his voice. "I need to- You're hurt."

Ignoring him, Jonathan tries to tear open the wrapper with a claw without messing up the sandwich.

Grabbing the sandwich and setting it away, Edwin firmly says, "you are hurt. Let me take care of you."

Appearing more curious than obedient, the beast sits up and watches Edwin closely, allowing the man to stand up and move around the sea of cloth. It's the first time he really gets a look at the room, not that much is remarkable about it; it's small, dark, and the floor is almost entirely covered in cloth. A few shelves stand in what might have once been order in a corner, an old pair of sheers catching his eye. He _nearly_ manages to not flinch when the creature snarls as he approaches with them. He knows perfectly well _Jonathan_ would never hurt him, but Edwin is a realist, and understands whatever this is isn't entirely him right now. The man himself had warned him countless times to be wary if he ever started acting odd, and if this doesn’t fit the bill…

Shaking those gloomy thoughts away, he shushes Jonathan- definitely Jonathan, saying, "you stop that. I'm trying to help you."

Glaring at him the whole while but obeying, Jonathan lets him walk closer, pick up longer scraps of fabrics, cut them lengthways, and tie them together. It isn't until the cloth presses against a tender wound does he hiss again, rearing up away from the touch. Managing to coax him back down and keep him still, Edwin does a fair job wrapping the wounds, all things considered. He even catches Jonathan as he tries to wrestle the makeshift dressing off, instead getting him to lay down. It does, however, come with the price of being pulled down with him and curled around. Pulling the sandwich over, Jonathan holds it against Edwin's chest.

Leaning against the creature's stomach again, Edwin sighs and mumbles, "thank you, dearest."

He wearily takes the sandwich, simply holding it as he thinks. Watching him carefully, Jonathan lifts Edwin's hand, and subsequently the sandwich, up to his face.

He smiles slightly, moving it away and saying, "I'm fine, I promise."

In that same odd voice, the beast rumbles, "hungry?"

"No, I'm only… Thinking," Edwin says, petting his head. It's odd how quickly he's gotten used to that.

"Worrying," Jonathan corrects.

Even as a beast, he can read him like an open book. "Thomas says he'll be here in three days, but…" Edwin doesn't dare finish that thought.

Shifting to rest his head in his lap again, Jonathan looks up at him, staring and studying his expression carefully. Trying his best to convince Jonathan, and himself, he's alright, Edwin takes a bite of the sandwich and continues to pet his head. Before he knows it, he's finished half of it, only just now realizing how hungry he is. Sighing and glancing at Jonathan, looking up at him with an illusionary I-told-you-so look, Edwin shakes his head and retrieves his phone again. Checking the time he called Thomas, he reasons it's been seven hours. More importantly, they're into the second day. He can do this. Jonathan will be fine. They'll _both_ be fine. He just has to convince himself of that, too.

Startling him out of his dozing at the sound of a phone ringing, thankful to find Jonathan still curled up around him this time, Edwin quickly checks the caller ID, only to frown in confusion.

Hesitantly answering the phone, he says, "hello?"

"Mr. Kingor," Oswald's familiar squawk says over the speaker. "Apologies for the short notice, but it'd be greatly appreciated if you could swing by the Lounge. Sooner rather than later. I know the travel conditions are less than exceptional, but I'm afraid that's part of my urgency for calling."

"Is- Is everything alright?" Edwin asks, sitting up.

"Yes," Oswald answers, a little too quickly. "For the time being, at least. Hopefully for the foreseeable future. It would help _greatly_ if you could find your way here ASAP."

"I…" Deciding it's best not to argue with his friend, Edwin agrees, "alright. I'll be there… I-I will be there. At some point. ASAP, like you said."

"Thank you, dear boy," Oswald says, evidently relieved about something. "We'll be waiting."

He hangs up before Edwin can inquire who _we_ are, leaving him to wonder if there's some unspoken agreement to not let him ask questions today. Or, rather-… It doesn't matter. Sighing, he puts his phone back in his pocket and stands up, starting to tell Jonathan what the plan was. Only to be cut off once again, getting scooped up and carried away as the beast shrieks, clambering out of a window and into the early morning. Edwin tries to shout over the biting wind, clinging to Jonathan as he struggles to get his attention, but his efforts are fruitless as the transformed man continues to rush through the city far too quickly for the poor inventor to make any sense of their journey. By the time they stop, his head is spinning too much to be able to register where they are, or the sound of glass shattering and people screaming. He’s only further disoriented when he suddenly hits the ground, loud screeching laced over the sounds of swears and thumping. Shaking his head and holding a hand to the side of it, Edwin carefully stands up, quickly ducking not a second later to avoid a chair flying directly at him. Tearing through the Lounge, uprooting everything in his way and swatting at the gunmen attempting to stop him, Jonathan shrieks as he tears a pair of doors off their hinges and forces himself through the opening. Cursing in a few different languages, Edwin quickly rushes after him, dodging out of the way of the armed guards, shouting for Jonathan to stop. Rather than listen, the large thing disappears through the dark room, a loud bang and shouting making Edwin’s already racing heart all but stop. 

Catching up to the commotion, he rushes into a back room just in time to see Jonathan, towering over the Lounge’s owner, swipe at Oswald, who barely scrambles out of the way in time, managing to only suffer a nasty scratch across the cheek, just over the lining of his gas mask. Before Jonathan can attack again, Harvey Dent making himself known by throwing an empty glass at him, Edwin shouts at him to stop, trying to pull him away. Spotting one of the gunmen in the doorway, Edwin jumps up and grabs onto Jonathan’s neck, setting him off balance and pulling him down just in time to avoid the bullet that whistles over their heads and buries itself in the wall. More men rushing in, most tackling Jonathan and holding him down, two separate to help Oswald, one of them all but picking Edwin up and forcing him away from Jonathan. The latter struggles, of course, knocking two of them off and one into a wall, but fortunately refrains from filling the room with gas. Harvey quickly joins the henchmen holding Jonathan down, readying a pistol to shoot him, but Edwin pushes his arm up just in time.

“What are you doing?!” he shouts.

“What the hell does it look like?” Harvey fires back, aiming the gun again.

Putting his full weight behind it, Edwin shoves Harvey back, saying, “stop! You’re hurting him, stop it!”

“You’re the one that _brought_ the bleeding thing here to attack me!” Oswald accuses with a webbed finger.

“I did not!” Edwin denies. “Now tell them to get off of him!”

“What, so it can off me and you can make off with my fortune?” Oswald asks. “Not a chance!”

“I’m not trying to kill you!” Edwin shouts.

“Damn thing’s more likely to kill all of us,” Harvey helpfully adds.

“No he’s not!” Edwin nearly screams. “He isn’t trying to kill anyone!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Harvey grumbles, cautiously making his way over to Oswald while keeping his eyes on the now silent and still Jonathan.

Searching for some evidence to argue for Jonathan’s innocence, looking back at the men forcing him to the ground, Edwin stops himself before he lets his emotions get the better of him. Willing himself to get back under control, he rubs his temples, going through his breathing exercises again. Oswald watches him closely, gently but firmly pushing Harvey’s hand away when he tries to check the claw mark on his cheek, frowning at the struggling bibliophile.

With a stilling breath, Edwin carefully starts to explain, “Ossie, I _promise_ I didn’t plan to bring him hear. He- He must have overheard the phone call somehow, and- He picked me up and ran here before I could do anything, I wouldn’t have intentionally put either of you in danger like this, and- And he’s already injured terribly, and Thomas is supposed to be back in town to help him, and I-I- I don’t want anyone to get hurt anymore, but-”

Holding a flipper esque hand up to stop him as he nears rambling, Oswald sighs and says, “I know you weren’t, dear boy. I wasn’t- Heat of the moment, nerves, and all that. You’ve my sincere apologies. I’m just… Hesitant to let _that_\- To let the good doctor in, what with his current situation and, well, you’re aware of what he thinks about that whole mess.”

“I…” Edwin frowns. “I don’t believe I am.”

Muttering to himself quickly, Oswald asks, “has he honestly never mentioned it? Here I’d imagine he’d chatter your ear off, given how he goes on and on about it. Really, you’d think he’d learn to get over it. A man of science surely has to learn from the past and-”

“Oswald,” Edwin carefully interrupts, “what does this have to do with you?”

He frowns before answering, looking away as he says, “you know, it’s been getting more and more difficult to keep this particular spat under wraps… Sooner or later, he’ll have to mouth off to the wrong bloke, putting us both in hot water, those bloody papers writing us up as monster and mad doctor respectively… Funny. Those’re both more Crane’s specialty, aren’t they?”

“You…” Edwin whispers, anger returning to his wavering voice. “You caused this?” Not giving Oswald the chance to explain, rising to hysterics all over again, he screams, “you did this to him! You turned him into- Y-You horrible, evil, selfish little- He was right about you! You’re just- You’re-”

Moving in front of Oswald protectively, Edwin advancing a little too close for comfort, Harvey says, “you watch your mouth before I-”

“Not now, Harv,” Oswald says calmly. Returning his attention to Edwin, he corrects, “_I_ didn’t turn him into anything. That damn biochemist duped the both of us. Linda Friitawa, or something to that effect. I’ll gladly admit Crane got the worst of it, getting turned into a bloody abomination, but it was _my_ life she was after. The fool simply refuses to even consider that side of the whole altercation, choosing instead to use this one direct connection to justify his hatred for men like me. Not that I can blame him. But it’s bloody well annoying. You, however, are a sensible man, and can make your own decisions on top of that. Now, tell me; what’s your verdict?”

Rather than answer verbally, not at first, Edwin closes his eyes tightly and forces himself back under control again. Opening his eyes, he asks, “do you know how I can help him?”

“I’m afraid not,” Oswald says. “I wouldn’t be in this predicament if I did.”

“Oh,” Edwin says, dejected. Looking over at Jonathan, who had been watching them all carefully, he asks, “should we just…?”

“I would think so, they’ll help you out,” Oswald agrees, turning around to address Harvey.

Hanging his head slightly, Edwin looks over at Jonathan again, frowning as the henchmen backing away keep their guns pointed at him to keep him in line. Nervously wringing his hands, Edwin glances back at Oswald and Harvey, evidently having some sort of quiet argument, before timidly inching his way towards the quote unquote “abomination.” He glares at the men as he passes by them, making certain to pick out the one that had picked him up and memorize his face, Jonathan slowly sitting up and flexing his claws as if anxious.

Just as they reach the doors, Oswald says, “you may want to visit Dr. Langstrom, seeing as this is more his area of expertise. I believe he’s still hanging around the old Charleston branch, unless they’ve finally gotten wise and torn it down. Though I’d wager you’d want proper clothes for such a meeting, hm?” Smirking behind his mask as Edwin blushes slightly, Oswald adds, “still in your spare room, leftover from the last unexpected drop by.”

“Thank you, Os,” Edwin says sheepishly.

“Oh, it’s the least I can do, after all of this,” Oswald dismisses. Winking, he half jokingly asks, “now would you _please_ take your Scarebeast out of my establishment?”

Nodding quickly, Edwin more or less leads the odd procession out of the back room, making their way through the building. The guards are patient enough to let him change, forcing them both out the door into an alley once he’s done. Frowning back as the door slams shut, Edwin shakes his head and looks up at Jonathan, reflexively jumping back when he reaches to pick him up.

“Could- Couldn’t I just ride on your back this time?” Edwin asks. “I- I appreciate you wanting to carry me, _Liebling_, but- Oh-”

Not interested in hearing Edwin out, Jonathan instead places him in the mass of hair near his head, not making any indication that he minds when Edwin reflexively grabs ahold of him. Granted he doesn’t really wait, either, already climbing up a building and leaving Edwin to cling to his hair and neck.

Climbing down off of Jonathan’s back, Edwin has to hold onto his arm for a moment as he adjusts to being on the ground again. It doesn’t help when Jonathan starts hissing, pulling his head down and hunching his shoulders as if trying to intimidate something. Shushing him, Edwin doesn’t let go of his arm as he leads him into the abandoned research lab, admittedly not thrilled with the idea either. It’s… Disturbingly empty, despite the feeling of being watched. At any other time, it seems like the kind of place Jonathan could at least appreciate. At the moment, however, he’s staying as close to Edwin as possible, looking back and forth as they pass, ready for anything and everything to jump out at them. 

“Dr. Langstrom?” Edwin tentatively calls out, making their way towards a lit doorway.

“Hello?” the scientist’s voice yells back. “Who’s there?”

Rounding the corner, immediately relieved to find Kirk working at his desk, Edwin raises his voice in hopes of making it easier on him as he says, “it’s Edwin, Doctor. I was wondering if-”

“‘Fraid I’m flat out at the moment,” Kirk interrupts, a little louder than necessary. “I can’t stop to watch and chat at the moment, terribly sorry. I _think_ I’ve almost got it here…”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Edwin asks. “I’m here on urgent business, and I’d be more than happy to lend a hand to speed up the process.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Kirk says, “but I’d ‘preciate it if you could help. It’d make things go by fairly quick.”

Electing to not correct the scientist, Edwin answers, “I’d be more than happy to.”

“Ah, beauty!” Kirk says happily, pausing to hastily write something down on an already cramped piece of paper. “If you could grab me my lappy from the table over there. Passcode’s same as it’s ever been.”

Doing as asked, Edwin makes his way into the large research lab and over to, thankfully, the only laptop in the room. He nearly drops it when a terrifying low, growling sound reverberates through the room, Kirk and Edwin whipping around at the same time to see Jonathan rearing up to loom over the former. Before either can react, the beast opens its beak and hisses, enveloping Kirk in a sickly green cloud, the unfortunate scientist immediately coughing and stumbling away. Edwin hurriedly rushes over to him, trying to scold Jonathan, only for an inhuman sound from Kirk to stop them both. Much to Edwin’s horror, he quickly begins transforming before them, bones and skin shifting and rearranging, screaming in such an ungodly way that’s enough to make even Jonathan in his current state fall back. Not quick enough, however, as the newly transformed Manbat immediately attacks him, swooping over Edwin and forcing him to duck under a table for safety. Jonathan screeches and retreats, bounding away on all fours as Manbat chases him. He nearly crushes the table Edwin’s hiding under, jumping onto it and over to a set of glass cages. Scrambling up them, he accidentally opens a few, their bat occupants flying out and attacking him as well. Attempting to swat the creatures away, Jonathan loses his grip on the structure, falling back and crushing a table and multitudes of scientific equipment under him. Quickly seizing the opportunity, Manbat swoops down and claws Jonathan’s back and shoulders, drawing an ear piercing shriek from the other transformed rogue. Returning the attack, raking Manbat across the chest with a swinging claw, Jonathan hurries to toss over every table in his way, managing to find Edwin and scoop him up as he flees. Vaulting off of a table and leaping through a window, Edwin hiding his face to avoid the shards of glass, Jonathan runs through the streets, dodging cars and Manbat alike. 

Nearing the harbor, Edwin smelling it more than seeing it, he shouts at Jonathan to no avail. Giving him only a second to catch and hold his breath, Jonathan leaps from a wood dock and dives into the water, Edwin just barely holding on as they sink further and further down. His eyes squeezed shut, he pulls at Jonathan’s mane in an attempt to get him to swim up, realizing he didn’t get enough oxygen. Finally, just as it seems like his lungs are about to pop, Edwin feels water rushing over his face and air suddenly enveloping his head again. Gasping, struggling to get a proper breath in, Edwin pulls himself out of the water, Jonathan carefully helping him along by the back of his shirt. Collapsing as soon as most of him is out of the water, Edwin rolls over onto his back to focus on fighting for oxygen, a smell even worse than the harbor soon making itself known and causing him to gag. Forcing open his eyes, he has no chance of mistaking their surroundings, as much as he’d like to. The sewers. _Wonderful_. He doesn’t even remotely want to know how they got there, but a quick glance around points out a half submerged storm drain. A storm drain that has familiar dark brown hair stuck around the edge, glistening in the low light.

Looking over at Jonathan, quickly spotting the red streaks on his skin and the glass shards poking out of him, Edwin forces himself up and reaches for him, saying, “oh, hell- Jon, you’re- Oh god, I-”

The sound of splashing cuts him off, making him jump and look around wildly. It takes him far too long to notice a pair of eyes peering out at them from the dark, and longer to realize they’re slowly getting closer. Looking in vain for the pen-disguised-taser usually kept in his shirt pocket, no doubt still in their apartment, Edwin backpedals into Jonathan, who wastes no time leaning over him protectively and hissing.

“Hey, woah, it’s jus’ me,” a thickly accented voice says from the dark, Edwin unable to identify it until its owner made his way out of the shadows, hands held up in an effort to be non threatening.

“_Waylon_?!” Edwin asks. “Oh, God, Waylon, is that you?”

“Sure is, Winnie,” Waylon grins, careful not to show off too many teeth.

Stepping closer, whatever Waylon intended to say is cut off by a threatening growl as Jonathan pulls Edwin closer to him. Both Edwin and Waylon attempt to calm him down, the latter taking another step closer, only for Jonathan to snap at him.

"Easy, Jon Boy," Waylon says, holding out his hand slowly. "Easy goes-"

Pushing Edwin to the ground, Jonathan suddenly pounces on Waylon, biting at his face and throat. Shoving back and staying on his feet, Waylon grabs Jonathan by the shoulders and grapples with him, managing to toss him into the water behind them and away from the bookish rogue, making certain to keep him out of harm’s way as the Scarebeast struggles against him. Stabbing Waylon’s shoulder with his beak, Jonathan tries to shake him off and flip them, clawing at him furiously, but he manages to wrangle the flailing beast into a sort of arm lock, holding him down with an arm pinning his own to his sides. If the wound in Waylon’s shoulder bothers him any, he doesn’t let on, though Edwin worries enough to cover him.

“_Gottes Liebe_!” he exclaims. “Are you okay?”

“‘M fine,” Waylon assures, still holding Jonathan down with a concerned frown. “I reckon you’d be better worryin’ ‘bout ol’ Jon, though. He don’t look too good.”

“He was shot, and- And Dr. Langstrom- Well, Manbat- And now he’s injured you, and-” Edwin tries to explain, tripping wildly over his words as he frets over them both.

“Slow down, Winnie,” Waylon soothes. Pausing for a moment, noticing Jonathan had stopped struggling, he says, “one thing at a time, a’ight?”

Cautiously standing up again, putting himself between Jonathan and Edwin, Waylon watches the former rise up slowly, the blue in his eyes returning as he tilts his head curiously.

Grinning, Waylon says, “there ya go, Jon Boy.” Turning back to Edwin, absently patting Jonathan’s head as he creeps over, he asks, “now what was that ‘bout gettin’ shot?”

Taking a deep breath, Edwin explains, "Jon was shot, I'm not sure when or by who, and now he's- I-I called Dr. Elliot, who said he'd meet us at Gotham Memorial in three days, which was-" Searching for his phone in his pockets, Edwin's eyes widen when he can't find it, whispering, "_scheisse_..."

"Y'mean the hospital?" Waylon asks. "There's a tunnel just over here that leads out right 'round there."

"Y- You're joking," Edwin stares in disbelief.

"I think it does, 'least," Waylon admits. "Don't usually go over there. Not much for a big croc like me. I could show ya the way there, though."

"Yes!" Edwin shouts ecstatically. Fixing himself with a small cough, he calmly adds, "please. Yes please. Thank you."

“Right this way, then,” Waylon says with a grin, obviously more than happy to help.

Waylon leading them off, he picks Edwin up out of the muck to better keep pace, the relatively short rogue is immediately thankful, both to be out of the grime and to not have to stumble through the dark as they delve deeper into the sewers. He tries his best to plug his nose and hide his gags for Waylon’s sake, but dear god is it _rancid_ down there. He hardly catches Waylon’s question, the stench threatening to overtake all of his senses.

“Are ya sure it’s just a bullet wound there, Winnie?” he asks, looking back at Jonathan lagging behind some.

“It’s three, actually,” Edwin admits with a grimace, “and a run in with Manbat. Which was- Mostly my fault.”

“Good thing he weren’t knocked out, then,” Waylon observes.

Blinking in confusion, Edwin asks, “any, um… Any reason in particular…?”

“I remember hearin’ somethin’ about him changin’ back if he blacks out,” Waylon explains. “Probably wouldn’t be too good if he’s hurt that bad. I’m willin’ to bet this beast thing he has goin’ on is what’s keepin’ him alive and kickin’ for the time being.”

Edwin only grimaces more at the notion, not saying anything in reply. Telling himself this would be the worst place to have to do his breathing exercises, he shifts his thoughts to their next few steps. 

When they reach the manhole exit, Waylon helps Edwin up out of it, both concerned when he has to do the same for Jonathan. Thanking Waylon profusely, Edwin tries to help him put the manhole back in place, but can hardly manage to budge it. Sighing, he pokes his head out of the alley they climbed out into, trying to place them in the city and hoping they aren’t too early…

Leading Jonathan down a back street, gradually winding their way towards Gotham Memorial, already considerably close, Edwin freezes up at the sound of shouting. He hurries Jonathan down the street and into an alley, only to nearly jump out of his skin when a hand places itself on his shoulder.

“Easy, tiger,” Selina whispers, turning Edwin around and placing a finger to her lips. Nodding towards Jonathan, she asks, “what’s with the monster mash?”

Struggling to keep his volume down due to the stress, Edwin hastily explains, “he was shot, and then he showed up at home, and then he picked me up and ran, and then I had to call Thomas, and then-”

“Stand down.” The gruff voice makes Edwin jump again, Jonathan hissing in warning up at the figure perched above them.

“Oh fuck,” Selina mutters in exasperation.

Neither Edwin nor Selina have much of a chance to act beyond that as Jonathan quickly picks both of them up with one arm and flees in the direction of the hospital. Rolling with this change in mobilization and using it to her advantage, Selina twists free of the wiry arm holding her and Edwin, climbing up to perch on Jonathan’s back, grabbing a clump of mane to anchor herself. Quick as the whip wrapped around her waist, she retrieves three throwing knives from their hiding place in her jacket, not wasting any time to throw them at their caped pursuer as Jonathan clambers up and over a building. While Selina adapts easily to the shift, Edwin once again clings to Jonathan, nearly slipping from his grip when he jumps from the building. It certainly doesn’t help anyone when Jonathan stumbles upon hitting the ground, causing Selina to lose her grip and tuck and roll. Fortunately, Gotham Memorial is within sight, and Edwin urges Jonathan to keep going. He hardly makes it to his feet before that plan is cut short.

Batman lands just in front of them on the street, blocking their path, batarang at the ready as he says, “I don’t know what _they_ have to do with your robbery spree, but you’re done.”

“Finished so soon?” Selina smirks and takes a step forward. “I’m disappointed.”

“This isn’t a game,” Batman states. “Stay where you are.”

“Really?” Selina asks, almost purring, continuing forward. “Seems like classic cat and mouse to me. You’re usually more playful on nights like this. What’s the matter? _Stage fright_?”

Ignoring her advances, Batman says, “you’re coming with me, Catwoman. _All_ of you.”

Pouting, Selina asks, “why so formal? You’re no fun when you get like that.”

Watching her advance carefully, Batman only narrows his eyes in reply, waiting until she’s within reach to lunge for her. Intending to twist her arm around to pin her, he changes course and pulls her close as Jonathan rears up to swipe at Batman, the caped crusader throwing the batarang at the attacking Scarebeast. It explodes upon contact with his chest, pulling a pained shriek from the beast as it collapses. Jonathan struggles to stand again, Batman retrieving another batarang to hopefully put him down for the count. Edwin shouts for him to stop, which kicks off a chain of events spanning only a few seconds. Edwin runs forward to shield Jonathan, Selina uses the distraction to twist Batman’s arm as he’d intended to do to her, a speeding bullet hits Batman’s hand and buries itself in the kevlar glove, Batman drops the batarang, and a fifth party joins the scuffle. Jumping down from a fire escape, Thomas decks Batman in the jaw, pushing him back and making it easier for Selina to flip him. 

Not wasting any time, keeping a pistol aimed at Batman, Thomas backs up to kneel next to Edwin, ordering, “get him on his back.”

Hesitating briefly, if only to figure out how he’s supposed to manage that, Edwin pushes Jonathan over with hardly any resistance. Moving the mane of hair out of the way, he grimaces at the sight of fresh blood oozing from the bullet wounds on top of the newly singed flesh. Snapping his attention back to the present, Thomas shrugs off a satchel and sets it next to Edwin, shooting at Batman’s leg to knock him off balance.

“There’s a pair of tweezers and gauze in there, already sterilized,” Thomas says.

“You don’t expect me to treat him, do you?!” Edwin asks. “I- I don’t know anything about an _actual_ operation, I-”

“If you’d shut up and let me finish, I’d give you instructions,” Thomas grumbles. “And it’s hardly an operation. Practically noninvasive. You just have to get the bullets out to kickstart the rapid healing.”

“The… What?” Edwin asks lamely.

“Just get the fucking tweezers!” Thomas shouts.

Scrambling to do so, Edwin hesitates, asking, “shouldn’t he be under anesthesia?”

“Can’t,” Thomas says plainly. “If we knock him out know, the chest wounds’ll kill him.”

Beginning to ask another question, Edwin cuts himself off, waiting Thomas’ instructions.

Under his guidance, Edwin removes the bullets with minimal trouble from Jonathan, both having to repeatedly keep him from passing out. As he removes each bullet, the flesh there mends itself quickly, answering at least one of Edwin’s questions and raising many more. 

Finally fishing out the last bullet, he looks up to Thomas to ask, “what do I-”

Taking a syringe out of the satchel, Thomas jams it into Jonathan’s neck and pushes down the plunger, keeping an eye on the skirmish over his shoulder while Edwin watches him in horror.

Before he could even form a question, Thomas says, “ketamine. Enough to knock him out and keep him out long enough to change back.”

Glancing at Jonathan, who shifts slightly and begins to pale rapidly, Edwin nods in understanding and watches the transformation. It’s disgusting and disturbing to witness, the mane of hair falling out and his bones rearranging themselves under his skin before Edwin’s very eyes, but the pained groaning coming from his unconscious body keeps the inventor from turning away outright. Instead, he sets Jonathan’s head in his lap and takes one of his hands to hold between both of his own, trying to focus on keeping himself under control as the beak shrinks back into Jonathan’s head with a few disturbing creaks.

“Don’t move him until he’s done, there’s a phone in the bag,” Thomas says simply, running towards the fight Selina had been leading further and further away.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Edwin calls.

“I’ll find you later to stitch Crane up,” Thomas shouts back before disappearing around a corner.

Staring briefly at where Thomas just was, Edwin turns his attention back to Jonathan, frowning as blood trickles out from one of his nostrils. He sits there for a moment, watching as his hairless body snaps and shifts back into a more human shape. As he feels the beginnings of tears welling up in his eyes, Edwin shoulders the satchel and carefully picks Jonathan up, careful to rest his head against his shoulder, and hurries away in what he hopes is the opposite direction of the Bat. He finally stops again at an old bus stop, sitting on the bench and holding Jonathan close with one arm supporting his upper body, his free hand searching for the phone Thomas mentioned. Finding it, he dials in the number for his chauffeur, taking a few tries due to his hand shaking so much, and nearly breaks down when he finally gets it. He hurries to explain and give him directions, the man on the other end patiently waiting and helping him look for landmarks, reassuring Edwin he’ll be there as soon as possible. Hanging up and dropping the phone back in the satchel again, Edwin wraps his other arm around Jonathan, still groaning slightly and beginning to shiver in the cold air. Holding him closer against his chest, Edwin tries his best to cover Jonathan, at last letting all of the stress and fear catch up with him as he sits and waits, quiet sobs gently racking his body.

The aching hold of consciousness seeping into his mind, Jonathan groans at its return, bringing a hand up to press against his pounding head. He doesn’t have the chance to process anything else as he’s suddenly enveloped in a tight embrace, pulling him to sit up and making his back ache.

“Jonathan!” Edwin’s voice shouts, sending his ears ringing and making him flinch. “Oh, God- Oh my God, Jon- Are you alright? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just…” Jonathan whispers before shushing Edwin, leaning against him. Squinting over his shoulder, only then noticing the light stabbing into his eyes, he weakly asks, “could you close them…?”

“I told you so,” Thomas says, going by the window to close the blinds as he walks over to the bed.

“Thomas…?” Jonathan asks. “What happened?”

“Scarebeast,” Thomas answers bluntly. Catching the flash of horror and concern in the scientist’s tired eyes, he adds, “no one was hurt. Besides you.”

Nodding and closing his eyes, Jonathan mumbles, “thank you…”

Grunting in reply, Thomas asks, “headache?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan answers.

“Photosensitivity?” Thomas continues.

“Yeah,” Jonathan nods.

“Nosebleed?”

“No.”

“Chills?”

“Yeah.”

“Trouble breathing?”

“No, but Thomas-”

“Sore jaw?”

“Yeah, Thomas-”

“Fatigue?”

“_Thomas_,” Jonathan says through gritted teeth, raising his voice just above a whisper, but enough to make his point.

Looking him over with a clinical gaze, Thomas finally concedes with a sigh, saying, “remember to avoid morphine for pain, and don’t overdo the oxycodone. I’m not saving you from another OD.”

Scoffing lightly, Jonathan twists his head around to hide his face against Edwin, weakly moving an arm to make some semblance of an attempt to wrap around his waist. Closing his eyes, he feels a sudden dazed sensation come over him, letting himself sink into it as he’s too weak to put up any fight. He almost feels like he’s drifting, hearing Edwin say something to Thomas but nothing really sticking. They talk for what seems like forever in a minute, then he’s suddenly horribly disoriented, feeling his stomach lurch painfully and his chest suddenly constrict. He falls over onto his side, curling his legs up to his chest and holding his gut, all but giving in to the pain.

It isn’t until he's shaken does he register Edwin speaking again, asking, “Jon? What’s wrong?”

Rolling onto his back to look at the blurry shape that must be Edwin, he opens his mouth only to feel the pain dissipate as quickly as it arrived. He instead simply shakes his head, letting his mouth hang open slightly and reaching a hand up to Edwin.

He struggles for a moment, curling and uncurling his fingers against Edwin’s sleeve, before managing to ask, “how long…?”

“It’s only been 32 hours, _Liebling_,” Edwin assures him. “Though Thomas said you really shouldn’t be awake so soon…”

Rolling his eyes as much as he can, Jonathan tucks his fingers into Edwin’s sleeve, curling into the fabric and establishing a physical connection that isn’t too overwhelming for his raw senses. Edwin understands, Thomas explaining the come down post-Scarebeast being incredibly taxing, smiling at Jonathan fondly as his eyes slowly begin to droop closed again. Once his arm goes limp, certain he’s fallen asleep again, Edwin carefully sets it at Jonathan’s side and pulls the heavy blanket further up his chest. Kissing his cheek gently, smiling as Jonathan stirs at the touch, Edwin carefully moves the covers just enough to slide into bed as well, giving his partner enough space so as not to touch. However, just as he sets the covers back in place, Edwin feels a long arm drape itself over him, turning over just in time for Jonathan to cuddle up against him. More than happy to wrap his arms around Jonathan and hold him, Edwin sighs happily as he rests his head on his shoulder, just under Edwin’s chin. Feeling his own eyelids beginning to feel heavy, Edwin holds Jonathan just a little bit closer, relieved and immediately comforted to have the scientist back relatively safe and sound. He’d like to think the sentiment is mutual, feeling Jonathan’s lips turn up against his neck in his sleep, Edwin shifting just enough to kiss his forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t worry, Jon’s hair grows ridiculously fast.


End file.
